


Under the Stars

by griimdarks



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, I'm terrible at titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griimdarks/pseuds/griimdarks
Summary: Jodariel tries to come to terms with her new self, and a certain crimson-feathered Harp.





	Under the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about demons in Pyre!verse and then this happened

Jodariel wasn’t sure if she would ever be comfortable with her new form. She’d suffered enough for it, that much was sure, and on nights like these she was alone with her thoughts and the quiet breathing of her companions.

The Blackwagon’s sleeping quarters were far too cramped and all of a sudden she needed air. Jodi liked to sleep closest to the entrance - if anything attacked, they would have to get through her first - and the exit was right there. But half her crew were trained to be up at the slightest noise, the other half were notoriously light sleepers, and the Blackwagon had a tendency to creak. Still she managed to sneak out, and after waiting a moment to see if anyone had followed her (something Hedwyn was notorious at doing, somehow knowing exactly when she was restless and upset) she made her way into the cool night air.

They’d stopped in Wakingwood on their way to the next Rite, in a cluster of trees that almost choked out the skies with their canopies. Jodi took a seat behind the blackwagon, staring at the stars above through gaps in the foliage. Sixteen years under the same night sky. Jodi should have brought something to drink with her.

The horns were bad enough. She’d watched her reflection with dread, feeling the protrusions in her skull, mussing her hair to keep them hidden for as long as she could. But they kept growing and growing until she was left with a pair of massive curling horns set just behind her ears. Trying to braid her hair was a mission in itself, it took days to get used to sleeping properly, and the headaches were far too frequent for her liking. She took to avoiding mirrors or any kind of reflective surfaces - it was hard to ignore the feeling of them, but they were a constant, irritating reminder of the Downside and of her sins.

_The horns represented one’s sin,_ she remembered hearing people say. Her horns were gigantic, and she felt everyone who laid eyes on them had the same thought on their mind - they were a symbol of her misdeeds, and she deserved her sentence. She’d been exiled for refusing to kill those fledglings, but she remembered the full grown Harps and their shrieks as she cut them down over her years of service.

She did deserve those horns.

Aside from the horns, she herself was growing in stature. Jodi was growing taller, little by little, her shoulders widening, her strength increasing. At first she thought there was something in the air, or that her exercising was at play, until she fended off a swarm of howlers without breaking a sweat. It made her suspicious, but she did like her newfound strength.

Her horns were not fully grown when she met Hedwyn again, and Hedwyn made it very clear that he did not care that she was changing, nor did he seem to care about what she’d done. He insisted they travel together and who was Jodi to refuse the company? It was bittersweet seeing him; she missed him dearly and he’d grown into a wonderful man, but he was _here_ in the Downside.

Hedwyn was the one to find the Blackwagon and the incredibly unclear instructions, and then he found Rukey Greentail not long after. Dealing with that was stranger still. Hedwyn clearly remembered her as Captain Jodariel, the human; sometimes he would reach in to hug her and forget about the horns, while Rukey only knew her as Jodariel the Demon.

“ _Captain_ Jodariel,” she corrected, desperate to hold onto one aspect of her old life.

Rukey nodded, seeming to understand where she was coming from.

“Begging your pardon, sister,” Rukey said one night. “But I’ve seen demons before, and you’re not quite…there.”

“What do you mean?” Jodi had her arms folded, leaning back in her seat.

“Well, demons have hooves,” he said simply. “And you have a regular pair of feet.”

Oh, great. Not only was she an outcast from her home, she was an outcast from regular humans, and now she was an outcast from regular _demons_ , too. But it stuck with her because Rukey was right, the demons she had seen all had hooves, and she did not.

The answer came a few moons later, when Jodariel woke up screaming. She’d broken her leg once before so she recognised the pain shooting through her legs, but it was strange, she had been _sleeping_ , so why-

It occurred to her, while Hedwyn and Rukey panicked around her, that the pain was only from the knee down.

She closed her eyes and bit her tongue and prayed for the pain to fade away.

Rukey still had a lot of ties to the Commonwealth, acquiring potions to help with the pain and help her sleep, and Hedwyn only left her side to cook. A few days in and the splitting migraines began, and now Jodi began to wonder if it was the end.

It took ten days, and Jodariel woke to no pain and the point of no return.

Aside from the obvious - _hooves_ , for the love of the Scribes, an actual pair of _hooves_ \- when she finally dragged herself to a mirror, she realised that was not all that had changed. Her skin had taken on a silvery shimmer, it made her look sickly in the light. Her hair had been light, bleached by hours upon hours in the harsh Downsides sun, was now the colour of soft spun gold. But the most startling change was in her eyes. Electric blue, standing out against the paleness of her skin and the patches of red and blue around her eyes. Jodi spent a long time looking over her features, hands shaking, stomach tying itself into knots.

It could have been worse, she tried to tell herself, slowly getting to her feet. It felt like she was walking on her tiptoes, or those horrible heeled shoes that were quite popular in the Commonwealth. Jodi was always tall, but now she towered over everyone, and that was something she didn’t know how to deal with.

Hedwyn, bless his soul, didn’t mention a thing. He clearly wanted to, but Jodi knew if he said anything she would burst into tears, and he must have known this as well. Rukey followed Hedwyn’s lead, mostly keeping quiet about the elephant in the room, until he made a quip about how her horns looked like a comfortable sleeping spot for a cur like him.

Hedwyn froze. Rukey looked like he immediately regretted saying anything.

There was silence for a moment.

“Try that,” Jodi began. “And I will shave off your mustache while you sleep,”

Rukey let out a snort, which made Hedwyn snicker, which made Jodi giggle, and then they were all laughing.

“But seriously,” Jodi managed, when they finally calmed down. “I _will_ do it.”

Many moons passed before they found the Reader and began their quest, but in that time she'd only seen another two demons, one of whom was extremely bitter and tried to kill them all for their supplies. They found Shae - a sweet girl, she thought, so young to be cast into this hell - and Sir Gilman, and then-

She wasn't fine with the journey to the Nest of Triesta, she wasn't fine with Tariq even going near those Harps, the idea of playing against a trio of Harps made her insides twist into knots. And Pamitha arriving, no, _joining_ their group, was almost too much to bear. Sixteen years in the Downside, with a pair of giant horns signalling the amount of Harp blood she had shed, and they wanted her to _work_ with a Harp? No, of course not, her pride and her shame would not allow it.

Pamitha watched her with a neutral expression, lashes veiling her eyes. “Whatever you decide, Reader darling.” Her voice was as rich as the crimson of her feathers, and Jodi wished she would take her pretty wings and fly as far away from them as possible.

Their Reader was a smart girl, giving Jodi an apologetic look as she chose Pamitha for the Rite, and Jodi gave her a quiet nod. Hedwyn asked to sit out the Rite too, and joined her on the sidelines

“I do not wish to speak about it.”

“We don't have to,” Hedwyn said, simply.

They sat in silence, watching the Rite and listening to their Minstrel’s tune; Jodi kept her eyes on Pamitha, waiting for the inevitable betrayal. When it didn't happen, she began to fidget, first with her armour, then with her hair.

“Jodi,” Hedwyn said. “Want me to do that?”

She pulled off the tie and let him braid her hair.

Pamitha was, unfortunately, here to stay but there were many things to do on the Blackwagon and Jodi only had to see her during mealtimes and Rites. Pamitha herself seemed to be keeping her distance, keeping the drive imps company more than the people around her. The first Liberation Rite rolled around and she almost forgot about the Harp completely, but after the Rite Volfred took them to the Moonlit Alcove and the waiting game began.

Pamitha tried to speak with her twice, but each time Jodi would suddenly remember an urgent task she had to complete and left. Hedwyn cornered her after that, asking her to _please_ hear Pamitha out, and to be a tad bit politer about the whole thing.

“Hedwyn,” Jodi said impatiently. “I taught you how to be polite.”

“Jodi,” Hedwyn replied. “You're ignoring everything you taught me.”

The third time Pamitha came to talk, Jodi allowed it.

“Hear me out,” the Harp said.

“I’m listening,” Jodi said, keeping her voice even.

“We have many differences between us. Perhaps we could put them aside, and work together on these rites?”

“I am no longer listening,” Jodi announced, and she could almost _feel_ everyone in the wagon roll their eyes as she turned to walk away.

She heard the flutter of wings, and Pamitha was hovering in front of her at eye level. “That is too bad,” she said, and there was steel in her voice. “Because I do think you should listen.”

“And I think that I shouldn’t.” Jodi crossed her arms. “I’m sure you know who I am and the things I’ve done, so I really don’t know _why_ you think this would work. So why don’t you fly back to your home, little bird, and leave us all alone?”

Pamitha snorted. “This is the Downside. We’re all exiles. Neither of us has a home.”

That was mean, even for Jodi, and Jodi tried not to be actively mean. “Sorry,” she said, after a moment. “I just-”

“I know you were on the Bloodborder. So was I. I know you shed plenty of blood, and so did I.” Pamitha drifted to the ground, landing daintily on her feet. “We’ve both been stripped of name and title, coming here, and we _both_ want this-” she waved a wing around them. “-to succeed. I’m not saying _be my friend_ , I’m saying, _let’s work together_. Two very different things, darling.”

_Darling_. Jodi closed her eyes. “You’re right,” she said. “I should have had everyone’s best interests in mind.”

Pamitha gave her a wry smile. “It happens to the best of us.”

* * *

This time, she _did_ want to talk to Hedwyn. Jodi wasn’t the type to talk about her feelings, but usually her feelings didn’t get in the way of a set of sacred Rites created by the Scribes themselves, and the liberation of those closest to her.

She found him hunched over a cooking pot, his favourite place in the Blackwagon aside from his bed.

“Jodi! I heard you patched things up with Pamitha,” he took a spoonful of what he was cooking and held it out to her. “Taste, please?”

She obliged; it was his signature silt porridge. “Needs more salt,” she said. “And no, Pamitha did the patching up, not me.”

Hedwyn tasted his dish and frowned, reaching for the salt. “Pamitha is…..quite different, isn’t she? I was very suspicious of her at the start. But she grows on you, I think.”

“Like a weed,” Jodi muttered.

“Jodi,” He said, disapprovingly.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s hard, I know,” Hedwyn stirred the pot.

“I put my own personal feelings and issues before everything else,” she said quietly. “We have something so much bigger at stake, and I’m simply being petty.”

“No, nothing like that,” He said gently. “You spent so many years at the Bloodborder, and it’s not easy to abandon that sense of fear and panic when a Harp comes close. You do so much for us, Jodi, and you’re allowed to make mistakes.”

Jodi closed her eyes and sighed.

“Do you need a hug?” Hedwyn offered.

“I need some wine.”

“That can be arranged.”

* * *

Playing alongside Pamitha, Jodi almost forgot who she was, and what she’d done. There was only the celestial orb, the Pyre, and the stars.

Jodi had a feeling that the Reader was still worried about having her and the Harp in such close proximity since they’d been on such bad terms. She was worried about it for a different reason; the closeness required for a successful Rite was only achievable if one laid their soul bare, and Jodi wasn’t sure she wanted Pamitha to see that.

She’d brought it up with Hedwyn, fiddling with the hem of her raiments before the Rite. Despite knowing him since he was a child, he always found a way to surprise her, taking her face in his hands and saying that she would be just fine. Had it been anyone else, she would have scoffed and rolled her eyes, but it was Hedwyn so she believed him.

And he was right, of course. She focused on the orb, on the Reader’s thoughts, and on protecting the Nightwings’ Pyre.

She did keep an eye on Pamitha, thought. Old habits die hard, and there was something mesmerising about the way the Harp danced through the skies, a certain elegance and daintiness to her movements that made Jodi nod in approval.

Pamitha found her, once the Rite was complete. “What did you think?” she asked.

“A decent performance,” Jodi said.

Pamitha raised an eyebrow. “Thanks,” she said, after a moment.

Jodi gave her a small nod, and walked away.

* * *

Demons were rare in the Downside. People rarely survived long enough to start growing horns, and for all she knew, they weren’t strong enough to make it through the actual changes. The pain was just a ghost of a memory; on some dark days she wondered if she’d have survived it without Rukey and Hedwyn by her side.

When she first met Ignarius she was curious, then he called her “curly-horns” and the feeling vanished faster than Ti’zo’s food when he was hungry. He kept bringing them _up_ ; Jodi had her fair experience of men like that in the army, but she never thought she’d find one in the Downside.

Although she supposed it made life a little more interesting, considering most people were too afraid to even look her in the eyes.

When they met again, he maintained the nickname, and she maintained the Nightwing’s winstreak. He was a gracious loser, surprisingly jovial about the whole thing, and she wondered if he was actively trying to ask her out, or just lonely.

She took a moment to speak with him while everyone got ready to move and _thankfully_ it was the latter, but she made sure to set him straight.

“You’re the second demon I’ve seen out here,” Ignarius admitted. “I move around a lot, especially with these Rites, and it’s nice to see someone with a pair of horns like me.”

“You broke one,” she said.

“You’re an observant one, Curly Horns,” Ignarius laughed. “I got into a fight. I didn’t realise they could break, and it hurt like a _bitch_ when it broke off.” He reached up and ran a finger along the jagged edge. “It’s healing, well, growing back. I know I thought about cutting them off myself, back when I first got them, but it’s not worth the trouble or the pain.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t entertained the idea,” she admitted.

“Was that the only reason you wanted to talk?” he asked.

“It was. How observant of you,” Jodi looked back; the Blackwagon looked ready to go. “I do have to get going.”

“Do you have to?” Ignarius sounded the slightest bit desperate. Maybe she’d judged him wrong. “Give it a night. Let’s share a drink.”

“I’ve been to enough bars to know where that line of thought is going,” Jodi sighed. “I’ll see you at the next Rite.”

* * *

Wakingwood was their next destination - or more specifically, the Glades of Lu - and Jodi stared at the stars, wondering where they would take her next. It didn’t take long until the door to the Blackwagon opened, and a shock of crimson feathers (not crimson hair, like she was expecting) emerged.

“You know,” Pamitha took a seat a respectable distance away; close, but not close enough. “You never did tell us what you and Ignarius were talking about.”

“Am I obliged to reveal it?” Jodi said.

“Not really, but I’m a curious sort.”

She heard talons clink against glass, Pamitha had brought her moonshine. “If you need help sleeping, I have more than enough to knock you out.”

“I’m not really in the mood,” Jodi said. “But thank you,”

“Are you sure you don’t want to share a drink with me, darling?”

“I’ve been to enough bars to know what happens after that,”

“Well, I don’t,” Pamitha brought the bottle to her lips, taking a generous swig. “Why don’t you show me?”

Jodi sat up. “You….haven’t? Do they not have bars up on the cliffs where you all stay?”

“I was joking,” Pamitha said, dryly. “We most certainly do.”

“Of course you do,” Jodi said, relaxing, before realising _exactly_ what Pamitha just said. “ _Oh!_ ”

“Wow, Jodi, darling, that took you a while,” Pamitha grinned. “I could almost see the cogs in your brain working there!”

“Very funny, little bird,” Jodi rolled her eyes.

“The offer still stands, by the way,” Pamitha held out the bottle. Jodi eyed it for a moment, looking up at Pamitha. The Harp's lips quirked in a smile, eyes full of mischief and something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and Jodi took the bottle with the ghost of smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [cinderfell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell) for reading over this for me! <3


End file.
